


Bucket of Sin

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal, Anal Sex, Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Pegging, Priest Kink, Religion Kink, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Roleplay, Smutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen wants to try something new and Amallia is a kinky son of a bitch who jumps right on board the train to Sin-Town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucket of Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to apologize profusely in advance for this. This is probably the kinkiest thing I've written thus far (and I realize it really isn't all that kinky, but for me it is). If anybody is offended by sexual religious role-play I apologize now. Consider this your warning. Do not read any further if you do not want to read about a priest and a nun fucking.

“Can I ask you something?”

When had he opened the door? Her head whipped around over her shoulder, startled by the sudden interruption. Worried. Or nervous? Amallia couldn’t quite tell, the furrow of Cullen's brow a slight mix of both. In his arms he held two dark bundles of fabric.

She removed her headphones from her neck and hung them next to one of the keyboards as she stood. As she approached him, she replied. “You know you can ask me anything, love.”

That earned her a small smile. “I ah … this is quite the request. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for days now,” he rambled as he looked to the fabric bundled in his arms.

When she reached him, nestled atop the bundle of cloth was a belted set of straps with a space in the center. Atop those straps sat a pale, ribbed dildo, accurately shaped to mimic that of a real penis. And next to it, a bottle of lube – _anal_ lube – lay unopened. _She_ picked up the dildo and examined it, an impish grin hooking the corners of her lips.

“Are you asking me to dress up for you?” she pried, voice low with lust.

“Um,” he began, shrugging. “I’m asking that we _both_ dress up.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” she gasped. “Role playing? What do you have for us?! Show me!”

The relief in his eyes quickly flashed to molten arousal, the amber blazing alight at her excitement. He grasped the belt and lube, handing them both to her and then shook out both pieces of fabric. In his left he held up one swathe of black fabric with a white collar. In his right, the black nun’s habit hung and a shiver coursed through her entire body.

She took the nun’s robe and draped it over an arm. “So, am I confessing to you? Will I … be punished?”

His arm circled her hips and tugged her to him roughly, her core meeting his groin. The full swell of his erection rubbed, the friction a sweet preview of what he was about to do to her. With a tight grip, fingers biting beneath the fabric of her running shorts, Cullen kissed her, lips crushing hers in a hard, hungry kiss.

Too soon, he pulled back, breaking off their connection and Amallia whined in protest. He hummed a laugh, seeming to enjoy her eagerness. “No, pup, I believe I have a confession for you. The priest has to confess to someone, right? It might as well be the nun he dreams about fucking, the one he imagines beneath him when he is rutting against his bed at night.”

She had to admit, Cullen had a way with words. Another day she would have to ask him to pleasure her with his voice alone. But definitely another day. With her free hand, she took his and led him from her studio to the bedroom. She set everything on the bed before taking the habit with her to the bathroom to change. Before she had the door shut, she saw Cullen stripping as quickly as he could.

With her own clothes removed, she slipped into the inky, black robes, finding them much unlike a normal nun’s habit. They were incredibly well fitted, hugging every curve of her body and leaving little to the imagination. While every inch of her was covered, she could clearly see her shape in the mirror. If anything, it was that much more alluring, the unknown tantalizing. Hurriedly she rushed to the door and threw it wide to find Cullen kneeling before the bed, head bowed reverently and body similarly sheathed in his priest’s garb, all black except for the center of the collar. He stood and turned, eyes boring into hers and face a mask of penitent calm.

“Sister Amallia,” he muttered, voice shaking with restraint. “Thank you for joining me. Please, kneel so that we may pray together.”

“Yes, Father,” she whispered, putting on her best voice of innocence. Swiftly she crossed the room to kneel beside Cullen, hands clasped before her against the edge of the bed.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Cullen began and Amallia looked up to him, touching his folded hands.

“Father,” she pleaded. “Can you not confess in private? I fear that I am not a worthy vessel for forgiveness.”

With a strained frown, Cullen looked to her, playing his part. “Sister Amallia, if you only knew. It is you who should be forgiving me. I have sinned, in more ways than one, and I require your forgiveness. I must tell you. Everything.”

She gasped a soft breathless sigh, fingers covering her lips. “But, Father, what could you have possibly done that I would need to forgive?”

Amallia had no idea how Cullen wanted to play this out, but she was thoroughly enjoying the innocent act. For once, she could play dumb, as if she didn’t know how Cullen thought about her whenever he took himself in hand or _fucked a pillow_ in her absence. But she wouldn’t have the chance to act much longer, for Cullen grasped her hands and jerked her to him, their bodies flush as his arms wrapped around her.

He removed the veil from her head and tossed it aside, fingers burying deep in her hair at the nape of her neck and gripping hard. Lips and tongues met and Amallia tried to pull back in shock, still attempting to play the innocent sister.

“Father!” she sighed as she parted from him. “What – what are you doing?!”

Cullen’s wicked grin, kept at bay no longer, creeped along his lips as he held her to him. When his eyes returned to hers, she felt the dizzying rush of arousal wash over her entire body, his swelling length rubbing against her pelvis with each roll of his hips. And then he spoke.

“Confessing.”

The softest moan, barely audible, broke past her lips at the rumble of his voice. It took every ounce of her will power to continue, to keep up the act, but she managed. Barely.

“No, Father, this is wrong,” she protested feebly. “It’s – oh, Maker, but it’s wr – wrong. We must make it right.”

“I will,” he stated. “But I must show you what I’ve done. I’ve thought of little else recently,” he continued, hands roving over the fabric of her robes. “I’ve taken myself in hand and thought of you.”

“Yes, Father!” she cried out. “I forgive you.”

He growled a moan against the pale flesh of her neck as he stood, pulling her up to her feet. “I’ve rutted into my mattress, wishing you were beneath me.”

“I forgive you, Father,” she soothed.

At the nape of her neck, he tugged at the zipper of her robes, pulling it down. “And when my climax is upon me,” he whispered in her ear, “I’ve plunged my fingers into my hole, thinking it is you filling me. And then I come, so hard, and I’ve cried out your name to the heavens. _Amallia_.”

The whimpering moan of her name nearly brought her right back to her knees and she mewled a cry of her own. Voice shaking and unsteady, she whispered. “You are forgiven.”

“No,” he demanded as the zipper reached the small of her back. “You must punish me. I deserve no less.” He stepped back from her, arms open, submitting to her mercy.

“Stay there,” she directed as she slipped the robes over her shoulders, down her arms, dragging the fabric along as slowly as she could. With each inch of skin revealed, she saw Cullen’s chest heave with anticipated breaths, struggling to keep his hands to himself.

The fabric fell to the floor, pooling at her feet and she stepped from it, nearing him. Still clad in a simple dark grey bra and underwear, Amallia thought that maybe the allure of being covered from head to toe had been lost, now that she was nearly naked. But when she looked up to Cullen’s fiery amber stare, she learned that was not the case. And then the fabric of his robes twitched at his groin, a heavy flex of his bulge needing to be freed.

Stock still and hands fisted at his sides, Cullen sucked each breath through his nose, truly seeming to struggle against the urge to touch, to grasp at her nakedness. A coy smirk found her lips as she reached up for the buttons of his habit, popping them one by one. With the last one freed, the robes parted, revealing his completely naked body, the crown of his cock peeking out.

With two hands, she grasped the length of him firmly and rubbed a single languid stroke from the base to the tip. His shuddering gasp under her ministrations elicited a moan of her own. Impatient and aching for his touch, she commanded him.

“Take these off.”

Nimble fingers slipped the clasp at her back apart and he stripped the fabric away, tossing it to the side. He returned to his knees before her, hands grasping her hips and, with his teeth, he drew her underwear down her thighs. The slight roll of her hips, the squeezing of her muscles pulled her legs together and the dark fabric met the floor with the rest of it.

“O Creator, see me kneel,” he muttered into her flesh and his lips met hers at the meeting of her thighs, a long, soft swipe of the tongue lapping up her nectar. He moaned, another whimpering sigh, relishing the taste of her juices but she stopped him before he could linger there too long.

“Up, Father. You should not be clothed for this,” she commanded as she reached for the belt on the bed.

“Yes, Sister Amallia,” he obeyed, standing and shrugging the black fabric to the floor where it lay forgotten in an instant.

With a quick inspection – Amallia had never worn a strap-on before – she slipped in one foot, then, the other, wiggling it up over her hips. The leather strap fit snug between her cheeks and she tightened down the straps at the tops of her thighs, securing it in place.

When she saw that Cullen was staring at her, mouth fallen open and gaping, she instructed him further. “Over the bed,” she ordered as she pointed and he followed, the edge of the bed meeting his hips.

From behind him, she reached over his shoulder for the dildo and fastened it securely to the belt. The bottle of lube was still on the bed as well, and she leaned over him again, settling the soft silicone of the imitation between his cheeks.

His entire body twitched at the unexpected contact, shuddering in shock. With the bottle in hand, she straightened and tore it open, eager to begin.

“How long?” she asked.

“What?” For a second, Cullen broke character, growling at her with an impatient snap. “Oh,” he began again. “I am sorry, Sister Amallia. Weeks. A month, maybe more. I have lost count, for I have lusted after you daily.”

Amallia hummed her approval as she poured a liberal amount of the fluid onto the fingers of her right hand. With the bottle placed nearby on the night stand, she grasped his ass with her left and then spread the liquid around the rim of his tight hole, easing each finger in to the second joint. With each penetration, Cullen moaned into the mattress, covers fisted in his grasping hands. Wanton rolls of his hips rutted his cock against the firm edge of the bed and she relished the sight of his perverted arousal.

“When you come, how many fingers do you use, Father Cullen?” she asked.

“Two, sometimes three,” he panted.

She measured the girth of the dildo, eyeballing it and her fingers to gauge. “Forgiveness will come, but it may take some time, Father.”

“Please,” he hissed, a groaning sigh. “I need you, Sister Amallia. I need you inside of me.”

With the press of two fingers, she entered him, pushing to the third joint. Slow strokes relaxed him, the muscles easing apart. With a little more lube, she added a third finger, and then a forth. She never imagined the sight of him grinding his erection against the bed would be so arousing but it _was_. She felt the thick wetness dripping down her thighs, the leather strap between them rolling against her flesh, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

The base of the dildo pressed firmly against her swollen pearl and she wondered if that would be enough. Coating the phallic object in a thick layer of lube, she rolled her hips as if the fake protrusion was actually a part of her, thrusting the dildo into her hand.

“Are you ready?” she whispered as she grasped his ass again. His only response was a mewling agreement, head nodding into the mattress.

She angled the tip in, hips slowly rolling forward to push, and the muscles of his hole parted, taking in the girth easily. Trembling, Cullen cried out in ecstasy at the newest sensation of pleasure coursing through his veins. He rolled his hips, easing the ache in his cock and taking in another inch of the imitation at her pelvis, and she pushed further, gliding in easily until she was fully sheathed in him.

In a fog, her only thought was to do to him what he did to her. So she leaned over him, taut peaks of her breasts brushing his back, and grasped him at the back of his neck. The other hand pushed down hard at the small of his back, causing his ass to arch up to meet her. With her lips against his ear she whispered to him.

“I’m going to fuck the forgiveness into you, Father. You’ll know it is upon you when you cannot see straight,” she paused to roll her hips slowly. “Cannot hear anything,” she paused again, gently rolling into him. “Cannot feel anything but your cum spraying from your cock.”

“Maker, Mal, fuck me,” he begged, character completely abandoned in his state of overstimulation.

Fuck him she did, standing up and grasping with one hand at his shoulder, the other at his throbbing manhood. His back arched further, shoulders rising up as she pulled and withdrew from him to the tip of the phallus.

She’d never heard him scream before. Sure, Cullen liked growling and groaning and grunting while they fucked, but the scream she extracted from him when she _thrust_ in to the hilt was unlike anything she had ever heard before. For a moment, she thought she had hurt him, until his cry shifted from scream to ecstatic laughter in a second.

With steady thrusts, she pounded into him, releasing his shoulder and grasping him at the hip, the other hand still stroking his thick length. Their bodies slapped together, filling the room with the lascivious sounds of their sex, moans and sighs mingling. Her own aching arousal sooth with each roll of her hips, the base of the silicone grinding against her sensitive bud.

Mere minutes had passed when she felt the heavy twitching flex of his cock and he begged for her to stop. Slowly withdrawing from him, she watched as he crawled up onto the bed, laying on his stomach. Amallia followed, straddling his legs and spreading his cheeks with her thumbs, angling the phallus with her hips. With a smooth stroke, she slipped back in and Cullen moaned loudly, his face buried in a pillow.

She returned to thrusting at full speed, obeying his pleas for more, _harder, faster, fuck me, Mal, yes, fuck my tight hole, fuck me with your cock._

It took what seemed like only seconds, but had been several minutes before she saw his hand beneath his hips, fingers grasping his balls tightly, and his hips thrust into the bed in time with hers. His moans became short gasping grunts, mumbled insistence that she keep going, _faster_ , _more_.

As hard and as fast as she could, she pumped into him, and with each smack of their bodies, Cullen’s grunts pitched higher, turning into short cries of pleasure until he could hardly make a sound. Then his cheeks flexed, squeezing around the shaft of her toy as she buried it deep within him.

“ _Oh_ , _fuck, Mal, I’m going to come_.”

Slowly she withdrew, watching as each ribbed ring slipped from his hole until she was back at the tip. She watched the tiny thrusts of his hips grinding his cock against the bed, his breath held tightly in his chest, release _inches_ away.

Those inches lay right before her, poised, ready. With one swift, smooth thrust, she slammed back into him, pummeling his hole and he screamed into the pillow as he came. White spurts of his seed shot up to his shoulder, soaking into the covers.

Gently she withdrew the toy and left Cullen lying on the bed as she removed it, putting it in the sink of the bathroom. Hurriedly, she returned to him as he rolled to his back, straddling his hips once more.

“Well?” she asked.

Apoplectic, his mouth tried to form words, but nothing came out. With an exasperated huff, he shrugged, hands flopping against the bed, speechless.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she jested and he retaliated, sitting up to wrap his arms around her. He pulled her to his chest tightly, the fluids of his seed sticky on her breasts.

“Give me a minute,” he breathed. “I’ll make it up to you in a little bit. Do I have your forgiveness, Sister Amallia?”

She gave him an appraising look, eyebrow hitched and lip curled in a grimace. “I don’t know, Father Cullen. I may have to know the rest of what you’ve done to me in your head to be sure.”

With a growl, Cullen rolled Amallia to her back, lips on her flesh to lose themselves in their sins once more.


End file.
